Hands That Shed Innocent Blood
by Oneturtledove
Summary: As much as you search for the answers, when they become plain to you, sometimes you would rather live in the innocence. Now complete.
1. Morgan

Disclaimer: They are not mine.

Spoilers: Emily Arc

A/N: I have a great desire to get justice for all the missing and exploited children of the world. This started when I was almost 11, when JonBenet Ramsey was murdered. When faced with the facts, I can only come to one reasonable conclusion as to who is responsible for her death, but I know that for that little girl, there may never be any justice. This chapter is dedicated to her.

* * *

Scully had never enjoyed interrogations. It wasn't that she was bad at them, or that she and Mulder didn't work well together. Maybe it wasn't even the interrogation as much as it was the confession. The details of a crime bothered her and stuck in her head for months.

Especially the details of a mother killing her child.

* * *

_Several Days Earlier_

Conventional cases were not all that common for them. A kidnapping seemed so mundane despite the horror of it, and she felt bad for thinking that way. To the parents, to the child, this was not mundane. This was their worst nightmare.

She glanced over at Mulder in the driver's seat, biting her lip as she tried to read his expression. Kidnapping cases were hard for him, especially when it involved little girls as this one did. She watched him for a moment, noting the tight grip he had on the steering wheel. It wasn't as tight as she had seen it before, but it was up there on the list.

"Read it to me again," he said finally.

She opened the file and took a deep breath before reading.

"Morgan Grace Steele, age 5. Blonde hair, blue eyes, 41 inches tall, 39 pounds. Her parent discovered her missing yesterday morning when they went in to wake her up. There was no sign of forced entry, no ransom note, nothing to indicate an intruder. Parents are Darren and Celia, both 32. Darren runs a counseling center and Celia is a homemaker. They have two older boys; Michael is nine and Andrew is eight. There have been no threats directed at them, no hang up phone calls, no one suspicious lurking around the house."

He nodded, trying to ignore the feelings of familiarity. He wasn't going to let that get in the way on this case though. He wasn't. He had to keep a level head for this little girl, Morgan.

"What are your initial feelings, Scully?"

"I think whoever did this knew the house, knew the family, and had been planning this for a while. They took her for themselves, not for money."

"Think she's alive?"

"I hope so."

They fell silent for the rest of the trip.

* * *

Scully poured a glass of water and pushed it across the wooden table to the younger woman, who was wringing her hands and biting her lip.

"Mrs. Steele?"

"I'm sorry."

"That's alright. Just take your time and tell me again about yesterday morning."

She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes before beginning.

"I woke up at 5. I was going to go shopping at the mall. They opened early for the after Thanksgiving sales. I got dressed and went to wake my daughter. She had insisted on coming with me the night before. We were going to have a girls day out."

She fell silent as a new batch of tears sprung to her eyes.

"Ma'am, I know this is hard, but we need to work quickly. Any details, no matter how insignificant they may seem to you might help Morgan. She needs you right now."

The slender woman nodded somewhat shakily.

"I went to her bedroom and opened the door. She likes to keep her bedroom door shut at night. The boys keep theirs open, but my daughter has always liked hers to be closed. She wasn't in her bed. I checked the bathroom, her closet, under the bed, even in her toybox. She loves to hide. I thought maybe she was playing a game. She wasn't sleeping in the boy's room on the floor, she wasn't in the living room. She just wasn't anywhere. I screamed for my husband, and then I don't remember anything."

"I know most of these questions you've already answered, but I want to ask them again. Have you received any suspicious phone calls in the last few months? Hang ups or otherwise?"

"No, none."

"Does Morgan play with any other kids? Older kids especially?"

"She has friends at school, but she doesn't really play with anyone but her brothers. There aren't very many kids in our neighborhood. Why?"

"Sometimes kids will meet people through a friend that their parents never know about."

"No. No, we know all of our children's friends and parents and most of their family members. They're all good people. I mean, Jenna Peterson's father just got out of jail, but that was for a DUI. Nothing violent. He'd never hurt anyone anyway, ever."

"Mrs. Steele, is there any chance Morgan ran away?"

"No. There would be no reason for her to run away. She's such a good girl. She never gets in trouble. Her brothers adored her. She wouldn't run away. She just wouldn't."

"Is there anything else you can think of that might help?"

"If I could think of anything, don't you think I would tell you?"

Scully just nodded.

"I'll be back in a while."

She stood from the chair and left the room, meeting Mulder in the dingy hallway.

"Well?" she asked, hoping his work had been more fruitful than her interview.

"Canvases haven't come up with much. They just sent out the dogs, so we might have a lead soon."

"Thoughts?"

"I talked to the father. He's kind of an absent dad. Works a lot. He wasn't able to tell me much, just that they put the kids to bed around 8, no one woke up in the night, and he heard his wife calling for him just before 7. How about the mom?"

"I can't get a good read on her. She didn't yield any information that we didn't have already. I think she needs to see her sons and her husband. Might help a little."

"Did she give you any names to go on?"

"Morgan's friend, Jenna Peterson. Her father just got out of jail, but she didn't seem to think he had anything to do with this. Basically, we've got nothing. If she was older I would put my money on her being a run-away."

"Let's go see if they got anything else on the canvas."

* * *

Scully took a sip of her semi-warm coffee and set the Styrofoam cup back on the table. Morgan had been missing for 40 hours now, and the cadaver dogs were still out, searching the river behind the Steele's house. Everyone feared the worst, but no one was saying anything.

She glanced at Morgan's picture again. The little girl smiled up at her, a front tooth missing, and a sparkle in her deep blue eyes.

Did she have any idea what would happen to her? Had she been stalked? Harassed? Was it someone she knew, or a total stranger? Did she wake up scared? Did she cry for her mother, or was she bound and gagged? And if she was still alive, what was she thinking now? Did she believe people were looking for her? Was she cold and alone, or was she being taken care of?

"Doin' okay, Scully?" Mulder asked as he came into the room.

"I'm alright. You?"

"I'm good."

He gave her shoulder a squeeze before sitting down next to her.

"Mulder, have you ever heard that idea that when a person dies, the last thing they see is imprinted on their retinas?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"I keep looking at this picture, at her eyes, hoping I can read something in them. Anything. I'm searching for a clue in a picture that has virtually nothing to do with the crime."

"You're desperate," he whispered. "You're doing to this picture what you would do to a witness or victim. You're studying it, trying to get to know her, to get inside her head. Maybe you're hoping that through this picture she'll speak to you."

"I don't know, Mulder. Maybe I am. But Morgan is the only one that knows what happened, and I intend to find out what that is."

"Me too."

He reached over and patted her hand gently.

"Anything new?" she asked after a moment of silence.

"There are 5 registered pedophiles in the neighborhood. They're tracking them down now. One of the neighbors said that the Mr. and Mrs. have been having money problems. His business isn't going well, and there's a lot of stress in the house. We interviewed both boys, and neither one woke up in the night. They haven't noticed any strangers around the house either."

"I want to talk to the mother again. There has to be something she hasn't said. A repairman, a delivery man, someone who came to the house in the last few weeks. Whoever this person is, they took Morgan selfishly. They want her and not money. Hopefully that means they'll keep her alive, but I don't want to think about what's she's going through if that's the case."

He nodded and kept his hand on hers for a moment.

"We'll find her, Scully. We always figure it out, and we never give up."

"I just don't want to be too late."

"I know. Let's go back to the hotel and get some sleep."

"I can't. I want to go over these crime scene photos again. Do you know when they'll let us get into the house? I really feel like I need to get in there, like there's something that everyone is missing that will blow this thing wide open."

"Scully, don't become me on this. We can't have both of us going off half cocked or without sleep."

"I know. I just need a little more time."

"Alright. I'm going to talk to the captain and then we'll get out of here. I'll meet you out front in 20 minutes."

"Alright."

He tucked a finger under her chin, turned her face away from the pictures and papers, and kissed her forehead.

"20 minutes, that's all."

"I'll be outside, I promise."

He nodded and left her alone.

* * *

She tossed and turned until 4 a.m. Sleep did not usually evade her so badly, and she finally had to stand up from the bed and stretch. She was almost certain that Mulder was having trouble sleeping too. She contemplated going over there, but on the off chance that he had managed to get some shut-eye, she didn't want to wake him.

She sat back down on the bed and rubbed her eyes, unable to get Morgan's face out of her mind. As rare as they were in the X-Files department, she had worked one or two kidnapping cases before. They were never easy, but this one was getting to her for some reason. Maybe it was too soon after Emily, or maybe her desensitization was wearing off.

She tried to think of something else, but all that came to mind was Morgan. She sighed and went into the bathroom to splash some cold water on her face. It wasn't meant to relax her or clear her mind- she figured it was best to just stay up at this point. They had a briefing at 8, and she knew that 3 hours or less of sleep would be more of a hindrance than a help.

Her door opened and she peeked out to find a disheveled Mulder flopping down on her bed.

"You too, huh?" she asked, sitting down next to him.

"Yep," he replied, tugging on her waist until she was lying down next to him. She marveled again at how touchy-feely sleepiness could make them, and how little either of them fought it.

"I hate this job," she muttered, running a hand through her tangled hair. He nodded and pulled a pillow under his head.

"But someone's gotta do it."

"It would be nice if everyone in the world would just grow up and quit breaking the law."

"Here's to dreamin' Lady."

"It sounds weird when you call me that."

"I know. But I'm going to keep doing it, no matter how much you hate it."

She sighed and rolled over to face him.

"Mulder, do you really think we'll find her?" she asked quietly, playing with one of the buttons on her shirt.

"I'm not going home until we find all the answers."

"Me neither."

"We'll do her justice, Scully. One way or another."

She nodded as he reached over to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Get some sleep."

"I can't."

"Try. Even if it's just a few minutes."

"I feel like I'm not doing everything I can. I feel like I should be at the house looking for something, or working with a search party, or doing anything other than just laying here. Sleeping doesn't make Morgan come home."

"You need rest to do this right, Scully. Just close your eyes."

She nodded and obeyed, and they breathed together for a while, trying to find some peace. She was just drifting off when the phone next to her bed let out a shrill ring. She sat up, looking around for the phone, only to find that Mulder had already answered it. He was listening intently, his face crestfallen.

"We'll be there as soon as we can," he said before putting the phone back in the cradle. She looked at him questioningly.

"They found her."

"She's not alive, is she?"

"No Scully. She's not."


	2. Grace

A/N: I am really starting to depress/creep myself out with this story. I guess I'm not as desensitized as I think I am. I had a really hard time remembering the difference between mercy and grace for this chapter. I finally managed to get it right.

Chapter dedicated to Katherine Korzilius. She went to get the mail one day and never came home. She was laying in the road when they found her, and to this day, no one knows what happened. _August 7th 4:15_ by Bon Jovi was written for her.

* * *

The cadaver dogs had found Morgan's body floating in the river just half an hour before. She had traveled downstream about three miles from her house, where she had become tangled in some debris. They had pulled her out of the frigid water, hoping against hope that she had somehow survived. But the water was too cold and she had been in it for too long.

They were carefully loading the small, fragile body into the ambulance when Mulder and Scully arrived. The chief of police, who had requested their help to begin with, was standing at the bank of the river, his hat squeezed tightly in his hands. He looked much older than he had yesterday, disturbed by the evil that had seeped into his perfect town.

"This isn't supposed to happen here," he muttered, shaking his head. "I really thought we'd find her."

Mulder and Scully nodded in agreement and understanding.

"We have the parents coming in to identify her. Agent Scully, I'd like you to do the autopsy."

She just nodded. She'd prefer to throw herself in the ice-cold river, but she had to get justice. For Morgan.

"We're having a strategy meeting in an hour," the chief said, turning away from the river and walking towards his car. "I'll see you there."

Mulder's eyes met Scully's in the early sunlight, and he could see the pain in them. She wasn't even trying to mask it this time. He slid an arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer, placing a soft kiss on her hair.

"Can you do this, Scully?"

"I don't know," she sighed, stepping into the warmth of his arms. "I guess I have to."

"Maybe they can get someone else to come in and-"

"I'll do it. Someone else might miss something and then we'll never know what happened."

"Alright. Let's go."

He squeezed her hand and she held tightly to his as they made their way through the half frozen mud back to their car.

* * *

It was the coldest cold she had ever felt, running through her veins as swiftly as the river that had carried Morgan from one life to the next. But it was as hot as it was cold; burning, scarring, and disfiguring where it ran, leaving nothing but desolation in its wake.

She hated this more than anything she had ever had to do. For every poke and prod, she apologized to Morgan, her eyes filling with tears that she'd been holding back for too long now.

"I'm sorry, sweetie. I'm so sorry," she whispered before turning away to compose herself. It wasn't fair. Morgan should be home right now, eating pancakes and playing with her brothers. She shouldn't be alone in this cold, metallic room with only a stranger for company.

Whoever did this to her was going to spend the rest of their life cold and alone, just like Morgan. She vowed it to herself, to the small girl laying before her, and to every other child that had ever had to endure such atrocities.

When she exited the autopsy bay several hours later, the life that returned to her was almost overwhelming. She leaned heavily against the door, closing her eyes and trying to shut out what she had seen.

She heard footsteps approaching, and she opened her eyes to find Mulder coming towards her. She met him halfway and wrapped her arms around him, holding on tightly as she began to cry. He stroked her hair as she tucked herself under his chin and started to shake.

"It's okay, Scully. It's okay."

"No, it's not. Someone hurt her, Mulder. They cracked her head open and threw her in the river and let her drown. She was unconscious when she went in, but she was still breathing. She could have been saved, but they didn't give her a chance."

He held her and let her cry for a long time before she finally pulled away.

"I'm okay," she said, wiping her eyes. "I'm sorry for that, I just-"

"Don't. It's okay."

"She was so cold, Mulder. I've never felt someone that cold before. I just wanted to warm her up, but I couldn't."

"I know. I wish you didn't have to do that. I wish no one did."

She took a deep breath and shook her head.

"It'll be okay. I need to write my report."

"Want me to come with you?"

"No. I'll be okay. I'll call you when I'm done."

He nodded and kissed her forehead once before letting her go.

* * *

They had narrowed their list down to several persons of interest, and only three suspects. Darren and Celia were only on the suspect list because of their access to Morgan. As tragic as it was, more often than not, parents were the prime suspects in the deaths or disappearances of their children. It hadn't always been that way, but time had changed and evil permeated everyone.

Mulder and Scully were in charge of interrogating Gary Libson, one of the registered pedophiles in the area. The other four had alibi's for that night, but so far, all Gary could tell them was that he had been home watching TV.

Scully sat across the table from the man, while Mulder paced behind him.

"Thanksgiving day. Where were you?"

"I was at my mother's house," he sneered through mustard colored teeth. "We were the only ones there, but her neighbor brought a pie over."

"What time did you go home?"

"I left there about ten. We were playing Scrabble, or I would have left earlier."

"And what time did you get home?"

"Ten thirty? Eleven? I stopped to get gas on the way. Probably closer to eleven."

"And what did you do when you got home?"

"I sat down and watched TV. Fell asleep in the chair, woke up the next morning around nine."

"Did you get any phone calls that night? Anyone who can put you at home at a certain time?"

"No. Look, my DNA and fingerprints are already in the system. If I had hurt this little girl, you would know that already. I came in here voluntarily. You're wasting your time and mine, while the real killer walks free."

"Sir, it's not like we picked you out of the phone book. We looked at your history. This kind of thing would just be the next step for you, wouldn't it?"

"I've reformed, ma'am."

"It's too bad you didn't reform before you hurt those kids ten years ago, huh?" she said, standing up from the table.

"Hey, I was sick. I didn't know what I was doing. And I paid for those crimes."

"Those innocent kids are paying for your crimes. They'll continue paying for them while you live in that nice house, able to forget what happened."

"You think I forgot? Lady, it's because I remember that I'd never do it again. It's because I can't get their faces out of my mind. Do you think I get some sick pleasure from remembering? No. It tortures me. I deserve much worse punishment for what I did."

"You're right. You do."

She turned and left the room and Mulder sighed inwardly. Scully rarely flew off the handle in interviews, especially not like that. He was worried about her, and was even thinking about asking her to go home. He knew it wouldn't garner a good reaction, but that didn't matter.

He finished the interview a while later, and found Scully sitting in the conference room down the hall. She had a large portion of the crime scene photos and case reports spread out in front of her. He watched her for a while as she looked at pictures and referenced them with notations in the reports. Her fingers were shaking just slightly as she worked, and she looked a little green.

"Scully?"

"I know, Mulder. I'm sorry."

"It's alright. I understand."

He sat down next to her and watched her until she turned to look at him.

"Scully, do you need to go home?"

"What do you think?"

"I think you should do what you need to do."

"I'm staying."

He nodded and squeezed her shoulder.

* * *

_Mercy is not getting what you deserve. Grace is getting what you don't deserve.  
_The old adage ran through her head over and over again while she waited for the computer to do its work. She first heard it when she was around seven.  
_"Sometimes,"_ Sister Mary Joyce began, clearing her throat. _"God exhibits mercy. And sometimes He exhibits grace. Mercy is when we deserve a punishment or consequence, and we don't have to face it. Grace is when we don't deserve a gift, but He gives it to us anyway. We don't deserve mercy, and we don't deserve grace, but we get them anyway."_

That had always stayed with her. Any unexpected encouragement, a card in the mail, it was all grace. Grace was a gift.

Morgan had been a gift too. Every child was a gift, no matter who they were or are, no matter how they came about. Morgan was grace, in its simplest form. But what had she gotten? She didn't deserve to die. She didn't deserve to be hit in the head so hard that she bit halfway through her tongue. She hadn't received mercy or grace, and that wasn't fair. But maybe the point of mercy and grace is that they made things unfair. If mercy and grace were both out of commission, then everyone would be getting exactly what they deserved, and only what they deserved.

Thinking about it made her head hurt.

The computer beeped as it made its final determination and the printer spit out the confirmation page. She snatched it up and looked at it, nodding as it confirmed her suspicions. The fracture on Morgan's skull had with 99 percent accuracy, been caused by the decorative wooden angel on her headboard. More tests would have to be done to prove the angle at which she was hit, and the force, but this was a lot to go on for now. How could this have happened 20 feet away from the parents, who claimed to sleep soundly through the night? Surely a scuffle could be heard in the stillness of the night, especially one that resulted in such a loud noise.

She hopped down from the stool and went to find Mulder. This almost felt like a smoking gun, but one that she was not ready to handle.

* * *

Scully could do nothing but stare at the woman before her. Celia Steele had lost several pounds in the last few days. She looked like she would break into a million pieces under the slightest pressure. Her eyes were red rimmed, but the rest of her face had turned grey. She resembled a strung out meth addict more than a mother.

Mulder was questioning her this time, making her rehash the story over and over again. They had already found one inconsistency to her previous statement, and Scully was sure they would find others.

"So you didn't wake up once in the night, not even for a moment?"

"No, I told you already."

"You didn't hear a scuffle coming from Morgan's bedroom?"

"No, I didn't."

"A noise that loud and you didn't hear it? They fractured her skull and you had no idea?"

"No, no, no," she muttered, starting to cry.

"Who are you protecting?" Scully asked finally. "Is it your husband? Did he do this?"

She shook her head and looked down at the table as the chief knocked on the door. Scully stepped out with him for a moment then returned, a paper in her hand and an ashen look on her face.

"You did it, didn't you?" she spat, tossing the paper down on the table.

"What?"

"We found your DNA under Morgan's nails. She scratched you. Sometime before you slammed her against the headboard in her room, she scratched you. What happened then, Celia? Did you get scared, decide to toss her in the river? Is that what happened?"

"It was an accident!" Celia screamed suddenly. "She didn't want to go with me! She made me so mad and I just wanted her to do what I said, but I didn't mean to hurt her! And she hit her head, and I didn't know what to do. People would never believe it was an accident, and I had to get rid of her. So I took her to the river."

"She was alive when you threw her in, Celia. You could have taken her to the hospital, and she would be alive right now. Maybe it started out as an accident, but you ended up killing her."

"I didn't mean to kill my daughter!"

"Her name is Morgan!" Scully shouted, advancing towards the woman. "She was an innocent little girl, who did nothing to deserve this. But you were too selfish to see that, and now she's dead. You were supposed to protect her with your life."

"Scully," Mulder said softly, reaching for her hand.

"How could you do this to her?" she asked, ignoring him. "Did she beg you to stop? Did she fight back too hard? What was it like dumping her body in the river?"

"That's enough!" the lawyer hollered, standing up from his chair. "This interview is over."

"I have to place your client under arrest," Mulder said, stepping around the table.

"On what evidence?"

"DNA, and her own confession. Were you not just here?"

"That confession was given under coercion."

"Are you for real?" Mulder asked as he cuffed a now weeping Celia. Her rattled off her Miranda rights and led her out of the room, leaving Scully and the lawyer alone.

"That confession will get thrown out. You badgered her and-"

"I didn't give her anything more than an opportunity to confess," she said simply before heading out of the room. She walked down the hall, out the front doors, across the street and about a mile more before she finally stopped and sat on a park bench. Her chest heaved with the emotion and the physical exertion and she fought to catch her breath while also trying to stop the tears.

She knew the world was evil. She knew it could even be this heinous, but she had never accepted that before. Now she had to. She had stared into the eyes of murderers, rapists, terrorists, and black lunged con men, but never had she felt the utter despair that she felt right now.

She sat there for a long time, staring out at the people on the streets who were going about their day, smiling and laughing as if nothing was wrong in the world. Even the raindrops that fell from the sky didn't seem to phase them. She wanted to mock their ignorance, but at the same time, she was jealous of it. She would give anything to be ignorant again.

Rain and tears mingled together on her cheeks and she brushed them away quickly. It wasn't her place to cry. As much as she wanted to, for Morgan, for Emily, for Samantha, and for all the other children who became the victims of tragedy, she knew this was not the place for it.

She felt a warm arm settle around her, and she turned to find Mulder. He didn't say anything, just pulled her close and held her. She fought the tears hard, but they finally came out. He held her through it, rocking them back and forth slowly.

"It's not fair," she finally whispered.

"I know."

"I don't want to do this anymore."

"I don't either."

"I want to run away."

"Then run."

"What?"

"Run, Scully. Run until you can't run anymore, and then come back to me."

She sniffled and stared up at him.

"What?"

"It'll help, I promise. Just go. Cry or scream or whatever you need to do. But then come back to me. Okay?"

She nodded and he kissed her forehead before standing up.

"I'm going back to the station, and then I'm going to the hotel to get some sleep."

"Alright."

He turned and walked the other direction, leaving her alone again. Somehow he knew just what she needed.

* * *

When she returned to the hotel two hours later, Mulder met her in her room, a warm towel in hand. She was dripping from head to toe, and he wordlessly pulled her into his arms. He rubbed the towel over her head, then peeled her coat off and draped the terry-cloth around her slim shoulders. She shuddered slightly and he ushered her into the bathroom, where he handed her a pair of warm, flannel pajamas. She accepted them and closed the door before changing her clothes. She was much too tired to shower, so she just washed off her make-up off before joining him in the other room. She sat down on the bed and he tugged a pair of socks onto her feet before flicking back the covers so she could lie down. He slid in behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and tucking her under his chin.

She relaxed against him, closing her eyes as he brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. He kissed her cheek, her temple, and her forehead, then settled into the mattress, following her silently into a dream world where this comfort was never needed and the tears that stained her face never had to fall.


	3. Steel

A/N: Final chapter. I've grown slightly more attached to this story than I am to any of my others. I feel like my heart is in it, which kind of annoys me, to be quite honest.

This chapter dedicated to Dylan and Shasta Groene. Their kidnapper is behind bars, on death row, but Dylan will never come home and Shasta will have to live with what happened for the rest of her life.

* * *

* * *

Mulder tapped on the adjoining hotel door and tipped his head a little closer to hear a response from the other side. Scully called for him to come in, and he opened the door slowly. She was just slipping into her shoes, and he picked up her jacket from the end of the bed. He held it out for her and she slid into it, pulling her hair out of the collar.

"Ready?"

"I think so."

"Feeling okay?"

She sighed and looked at him.

"It just doesn't seem like enough."

"What?"

"Whatever the judges gives her today. It's not enough."

"I just wish there was more we could do."

"I know," he said, taking her hand in his. "But this is better than nothing, right?"

She nodded and he hugged her.

"Scully, no matter what happens today, I want you to know that you did everything you could for Morgan. You found out who killed her, and even when that part of your job was over, you stayed here throughout the trial and made sure that this woman will get the maximum sentence that the law allows. You were amazing as a witness, you were able to tell the jury exactly what occurred that morning through evidence, without conjecture. You challenged the D.A. when they wanted to go for a lesser charge. You never stopped trying. And I'm proud of you."

"Thank you," she said softly. He tipped her chin up and kissed her forehead.

"We'd better go. Sentencing is in an hour."

She followed him out the door and to the car.

"Want to stop for coffee on the way?" he asked as he started the car. She chuckled a little, the first one he had heard in almost three weeks now.

"I've had enough coffee to last me a year."

"Tea? It's cold out."

"Sure, that would be good."

They had gotten to know the town well in the time they had been there, and he drove quickly to a small coffee shop. He ordered two large peppermint teas and handed one to her before settling his in the cup holder and driving towards the courthouse.

She watched the snow fall slowly as they drove. It was only a light dusting, but it was enough to remind her that it was winter. The year was rapidly coming to a close, and she was glad to be rid of it. Maybe they could make it to New Years without too much heartache.

"What are you thinking about?" Mulder asked, lacing his fingers through hers.

"Nothing in particular. I'm just glad this year is almost over."

"You too believe in the healing powers of Dick Clark's New Years Rockin' Eve?"

"Apparently so."

"Things will start to feel better once we get home. You can sleep in your own bed again, you'll have a fridge full of food, you can get out of your five outfit rotation."

"It feels weird to think about going home."

"How come?"

"I feel like I'm leaving her here. I know it goes back to Emily; that's why I feel like this. But still, it's just... I don't know. I'll get over it."

"Scully, you don't have to get over it. Yeah, you should accept it and deal with it, but getting over it is something else altogether."

"I know."

He rubbed her wrist gently with his thumb, stopping for a moment to feel her pulse. They smiled at each other as he pulled into the parking lot of the courthouse.

"Ready for this?"

"I'm ready."

He squeezed her hand gently and they went inside.

* * *

The river was running fierce and deep, spray coming off of it like horizontal rain. Scully stood and stared out at the water, thoughts tumbling around in her head like the currents.

Celia Steele had been found guilty of third degree murder, and had been sentenced to forty years in prison. Hopefully she would remember what she had done every hour of every day of those forty years. Years from now, she would dream about the life Morgan could have had. The things she could have accomplished, the lives she could have touched. Maybe for Celia, the guilt would make up for the lack of legal action that Scully felt should have been taken. Her most constant companion would not be her husband or her sons, but the steel bars that would separate her from the rest of the world. The justice the world could give her would never right the wrong, or bring Morgan back, but it would have to do for now.

Mulder came up behind her, handing her a bouquet of all white flowers. She looked up at him questioningly.

"Daisies for innocence," he explained. "Jasmine for grace, pansies for loving thoughts, geraniums for comfort, and a couple of Forget-me-nots."

"That's perfect, Mulder."

"I had the same thing sent out to California for Emily."

She gave him a watery smile and he kissed her cheek gently.

"I'll be at the car when you're done here."

She nodded and he walked away slowly, leaving her alone for her own closure. She knelt in the snow on the riverbank and let the tears fall. She cried for Morgan, for Samantha, and finally for Emily. It was the release she had needed for so long, and she stayed there for quite a while before finally setting the bouquet of flowers down in the river and watching it float away. She didn't realize how long it had been until she saw how low the wintry sun was in the sky. She gave the river one last look and headed back to the car.

Mulder was leaning against it, his face turned up to the snow that had started to fall. Their eyes met as she approached and he held out one hand to her. She took it and he pulled her close, tugging his long coat around both of them and kissing the top of her head. Her hands slid around his waist and she let out a long sigh, finally feeling the exhaustion creeping in.

"Ready to go?" he asked after a moment. She pulled away and looked up at him and he brushed the fresh tears from her cheeks.

"Yeah. Take me home."

They got into the car and he started the engine, leaving the river and the coldness behind them.


End file.
